


Squip Set A Fire And It Burned Down The House, ohWOAHohwoahoooh

by GayChaton



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arson, Book Spoilers, Combination of Book and Musical Canon, Halloween, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, graphic description of violence, the fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-23 02:58:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11980644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GayChaton/pseuds/GayChaton
Summary: There's a few things wrong with being at a party with an active SQUIP, and one of them is that it sucks.It sucks really bad, actually.





	Squip Set A Fire And It Burned Down The House, ohWOAHohwoahoooh

**Author's Note:**

> I never planned to post this but oh well,,

"It's Halloween," Rich whispered through his teeth.

He pushed his way heedlessly past the hot girls and dudes and tried to find a place where he could just _sit down and calm down okay?_

Rich could hardly remember the party up to that point. He knew the worst highlights because his SQUIP was still critiquing them.

1) The SQUIP informed him that yes, it was chill to steal shit from your older brother, but not having a weapon and substituting it a loaf of bread was very much not so. Five minutes into the party, the SQUIP instructed him to dump it, and he reluctantly did so.

2)At one point, he asked Jeremy Heere if he was okay to drive. What the fuck was he talking about? Jeremy had a SQUIP, he could drive a fighter jet if he was put in the cockpit.

3) Out on the dance floor, his SQUIP told him to stop dancing and enforced it with electricity through his body. He started to shake and spasm, reaching for help, but all of the popular kids who minutes ago had been on his side backed away like he was just a freak.

After that, it was all behavioral freak outs and posture slips, but those were in the dozens at this point, and therefore minor in comparison the bigger screw ups. People started giving him looks and brushing him off. Dustin Kropp, the sweet kid, asked him if he needed to sit down and sober up.

"I wish I was fucking drunk," Rich hissed, ignoring the painful reprimand he got in return a few seconds later.

YOU NEED TO GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF.

Rich fucking hated the voice that overwrote every thought in his mind. Mostly because, as he learned, most humans can't think in actual letters and text, let alone caps lock. Unfortunately, the voice of SQUIPs could be adjustable, and so could the visual appearance (and that was a small blessing, because seeing Kermit the Frog in the corner of his eye had been hilarious for a good two weeks), but there was no changing the way unattractive sentences looked when they flashed across the mind.  _ I don't have to take orders from anybody. _

THEN YOU'RE BEHAVING LIKE A BRAT. CONTROL YOURSELF BEFORE YOU RUIN IT LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE.

_ Fuck you, I don't have to fucking stand this! _

WITH A LIFE LIKE YOURS, YOU DON'T REALLY HAVE ANY OPTIONS.

That was the tipping point for Rich. He actually, for real didn't want this. A fucking voice in his brain wasn't going to be the end if he could help it.

Then, he remembered something very important.

I WOULDN'T TRY IF I WERE YOU.

Rich grinned at the upper hand he'd just gained himself and stumbled towards the nearest group of guests. "You got any Mountain Dew Red?"

They gave him weird stares and turned their backs, and Rich's face fell.

EVEN WHEN YOU THINK YOU CAN DO SOMETHING, YOU CAN'T WITHOUT ME.

He moved to another partygoer. "It looks like normal Mountain Dew? But red?"

The dude pushed him back by the shoulder.

Rich felt like his ribs just turned inward and crushed his chest.

WITHOUT ME, THIS IS HOW IT WILL ALWAYS BE.

"SERIOUSLY! WHERE THE FUCK CAN I GET SOME MOUNTAIN DEW RED?!" Rich screamed.

There was a terrifying moment where the world was silent as he picked up an ashtray and flung it across the room with one hand.

It crashed against a piano and played a note, and after that, the room dissolved into mocking laughter. He was frozen for a long time in that position, shivering and tingly. The SQUIP inside was promising serenades of glory if he just manned up and listened again. Rich kept almost thinking direct arguments to the SQUIP, but he couldn't think because he felt as though his body was under arrest. He looked down. His hands were shaking violently.

He clenched his hands into fists and moved along with his search.

He caught the tail end of a conversation he would have found mighty interesting a few minutes ago, but he missed it and instead he tried to hear as much as he could. Christine and Jeremy were standing next to each other.

"I thought we were friends—" Jeremy started, looking regretful.

"We are. But…" Christine looked around and made a vague gesture. "I don't think I should go out with anyone until I know who I am. I know that's not what you wanted to— … I'm sorry."

With that, Christine turned, gathering her fancy dress into her fists and left.

Rich moved in. "Blukhuhuhuhuh—" Rich screeched, imitating gunshots. "CRASH! Shot down!"

Jeremy stared at Rich hopelessly.

For a second, Rich felt a wave of strong guilt. He knew that Jeremy wanted Christine and all, he prob'ly shouldn't have made fun of him.

ANOTHER THING YOU'VE ALREADY RUINED.

"Got any Mountain Dew Red?" he asked desperately.

"Okay, this whole no-SQUIPing-while-drinking-or-rolling thing? Would it have killed you to give me a warning?"

Rich felt his SQUIP try to connect to Jeremy's for help in overriding Rich's wishes, but when it failed to connect, it sent a blinding flash of pain down Rich's spine instead. It hurt so much, all he could do was let his draw drop and try not to move.

"…Rich?" Jeremy asked, softer.

Rich paused, filled with more regret, regret for dragging that loser kid into this in the first place. That moment of Rich's failure to resist was all it took for his SQUIP to take control. It lifted his body up. "Warning. Warning. Warning," his voice declared as his legs pumped, moving him away from Jeremy.

_ What the fuck are you doing?  _ Rich asked, trapped in his own mind.

WARNING. VESSEL THREATENING PROCESSOR. COMMUNICATION PARAMETERS NOT RESPECTED. SUBSTANCES. WARNING.

Oh shit, Rich thought.  _ Jeremy's high? Is that what you're freaking out about? _

WARNING. MUST EVACUATE TO PREVENT FURTHER DAMAGE. WARNING.

Rich grit his teeth and fought to return to his rightful place as the sole controller of his body. Luckily, the SQUIP didn't seem to predict that he'd fight back just then, and he regained his vision and enough motor control to halt his movement. He went from one living room to an open bedroom in that short time.

Rich looked down, his body was trembling with the simultaneous effort to move and stop moving. When he looked up again, some sophomore kid was lighting a cigarette indoors. Briefly, he wondered if he should do something about it.   
  
SHOW YOUR AUTHORITY. TAKE IT.

Rich, though reluctant to follow the SQUIP's command, agreed, and the body marched forward with a smooth confidence now that both influences had a common goal. His right hand swept upwards and snatched the lighter from the underclassman's hand. "This is mine."

"The fuck?" the kid asked, looking down at Rich. "That's—"

"You wanna fucking fight?"

The kid backed up, muttering something to a friend. Rich moved away with the lighter in hand.

NOW. LEAVE THE PARTY, PLAY IT OFF.

Rich glanced around.  _ No _ .

NO?

_ I still need my fucking Mountain Dew Red. _

The convulsions and seizing muscles started right back up as he wrestled for control of the body. This time, the SQUIP's hands seemed to physically try to pull back his body, but there was nothing fucking there.

He looked sideways at his trembling hand. The fingers were still wrapped around a lighter.

WARNING. DEFENSE PROTOCOL INITIATED. ENACTING CODE DEFENSE ZERO. ZERO. ONE. FOUR. TWO. WARNING.

Rich had learned a thing or two in the months of having a SQUIP, one being that if asked a direct question,SQUIPs still had to answer to their knowledge.  _ Define Code Defense 00142. _

CODE DEFENSE ZERO-ZERO-ONE-FOUR-TWO: SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR DEFENSE PROTOCOL WHEREIN SHOULD THE RISK OF FATALITY OF MORE THAN ONE SUPER QUANTUM UNIT INTEL PROCESSOR CROSS AN ESTIMATED THRESHOLD OF SEVENTY-FIVE PERCENT, THE LIABILITY VESSEL MAY BE OVERRIDDEN TO EITHER EVACUATE, FORCEFULLY "SQUIP" OTHER DANGEROUS ENTITIES, OR TERMINATE THE VESSEL.

Rich saw the hand flick on the flame of the lighter. _ Terminate the vessel? What the fuck, am  _ **_I_ ** _ the vessel? _

WARNING. WARNING. WARNING.

"Holy shit," Rich grit out through his teeth, forcing his own arm to move away from his body.

The flame moved under an indoor plant, and the fire caught on to the thin leaves like tinder. Rich struggled to keep the flame away from his own clothing. The wrestle forced his hand dangerously close to a number of different objects, a few of which caught fire as well.

This house that Rich had hidden and taken refuge in so many times was now lit ablaze.

People screamed and ran away, scrambling to get out, but Rich wasn't paying particular attention to that. He was focused expressly on the way that the lighter was hovering next to the pocket flap of his coat. His hand was shaking hard now, because why did Jason's jacket have to be torn up with so many flammable parts because now it was on fire too, and his legs were stiff and his arms less so.

As the fire spread quickly across the fabric of his arms, he could feel it burning his arms, and his eyes began to leak as he shuddered in pain. The fire had also caught on rugs and licked at his feet. He wasn't sure what he could do, the SQUIP had him stuck here in his own personal burning hell.

Literal fucking hell.

A terrifying thought flashed across his mind; what if the SQUIP kept him so still that his legs burned away before the rest of his body? Then he'd be lying legless face-down in fire, and he heard an eternity ago in a fire safety drill that the bottom of a flame is the hottest part and his brain kept repeating you'redyingyou'redying _ you're dying _ .

His whole frame shook, and through his tears, he searched for any hope of escape. He recognized the room, they were on the second story in the guest bedroom. It had a window.  _ If I throw myself out, would the fall be able to kill me faster? _ He tried to move his legs, but despite the way they seemed weak from all this incessant shaking, they refused to move. His breathing was quickly becoming constricted by smoke, and his gasping sobs turned to wheezing ones that racked his whole body but did not let him fall and he just  _ wanted to fucking die already— _

The door slammed open, and he was shocked enough that he looked over to see who the hell ran into the only burning part of the house, and there he stood, dressed in that awful outfit that half the underclassmen probably thought was supposed to be Thomas Jefferson from Hamilton but was actually Prince.

"Rich!" Jake screamed.

Rich paused a moment to consider that Jake's voice sounded awfully strained and grainy.

HE JUST FUCKED CHLOE, WHY DO YOU THINK HIS VOICE IS THAT WAY?

Rich swallowed hard and stared at Jake through the flames.

"Dude what the hell," Jake said, rushing forward through the flames quickly. His fingers ripped off Rich's jacket in a hurry and dropped it to the floor.

Rich finally regained the ability to react. He dropped the lighter and kicked frantically at his pants.

Jake grabbed Rich's arm and dragged him into the safest corner, where they stumbled to the ground.

Rich cried out as the pain finally fully crashed into him. He'd been burning alive and his legs  _ still were holy shit— _   
But before he could freak out further, Jake's hands were on his pants, patting out the fire and smothering it with his own huge coat. The fire snuffed out, and Rich was just left in tears at the painful friction of the remaining fabric against the burns.

"Fuck fuck. Jake, I thought you and Chloe—?"

"She left," Jake said, coughing. "Fuck, your body's so fucked up, what the fucking—"

"Why didn't you leave?" Rich wheezed. The smoke was getting thicker, but he couldn't imagine standing up again.

"We need to get you out," Jake said. The fire had already reached the other side of the room, where the door was.

Rich looked around. "The window, go."

Jake stood up and reached out an arm to help Rich up.

After a moment, Rich took it and tried to stand. For a very brief second, his legs shook under his pressure and began to push him up, but they wobbled and he collapsed onto his arms on the floorboard. "Just fucking run," Rich coughed, squeezing his eyes shut against the burning smoke and pain.

He was alone for a second, and he thought Jake finally got some fucking sense and got out. Then, he was just left with the fading screams of an angry, overclocked SQUIP and lungfuls of smoke.

Without warning, two arms wrapped around his chest and heaved up. Rich's body was heaved into the air, and once it was,

Jake threw one of his arms under Rich's knees and folded his body closer.

Rich hissed and exhaled sharply at the pain, but he threw an arm over Jake's shoulder and braced himself. He saw the window wide open with the shutters pulled to the side, and realized what Jake was doing.

Jake didn't run and jump out of the window, like Rich thought he might, instead, he kicked one leg over the threshold and pulled the other over as well, making sure they didn't get caught. After a second of shuffling and sitting on the ledge, Jake pushed off the edge.

Rich hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled onto his side, wheezing.

The first thing he registered hearing was Jake, screaming.

Not crying, not wailing, just screaming loud and hoarse with a slight whine when he ran out of breath to keep screaming.

Rich wanted to get up, to push his face out of the dirt, to figure out what the fuck was wrong so he could stop it and end its existence, but his body was stiff. He couldn't move then, nor when some kids from the party decided it was bad enough to intervene and drag them from the house, nor when he was left lying on his back in at the edge of the lawn just inches from Jake.

Finally, at some point, Jake stopped screaming and coughed ragged painful breaths with hitched groans. That was when it got worse because it seemed that whatever happened to Jake wore off enough for him to recognize his surroundings too.

"Shit, Rich?"

Rich's eyes were closed, he faintly wondered if he looked dead. He  _ felt _ dead. He felt like his skin had burned off all the parts that could feel and instead he just had waxy gross plastic over his bones and whatever muscles weren't burned either.

"Rich, fuck Rich, what the fuck no. Nono no, you can't, Rich  **please** ! Somebody call a fucking ambulance!"

"We did," some kid said. "They're coming!"

"Rich, don't fucking die, you can't do that to me, Jesus Christ! You're all I fucking have, please, god damn it."

As much as Rich wanted to comfort Jake and tell him everything was fine and would be fine, y’know, like a liar, there was a clear signal coming from his body. It had stopped taking account of pain, and let it numb back into the static in Rich’s mind. Even the squip had disappeared along with the pain. With the stabbing adrenaline gone, and the sharp sting of smoke in his lungs reduced to nothing but a minor inconvenience, his body gave him the A-OK to pass the fuck out.

He turned his head slightly to make fading eye contact with Jake. He forced his lips to move as he whispered out “Jake,” but after that, his resolve to react disappeared and the undertow of unconsciousness took Rich before he even realized it was happening.

He didn’t hear Jake screaming for help, and even if he could, he probably wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

Rich would wake up in a hospital bed alone with a flurry of cards from classmates. None of them were people who actually cared about Rich, and none of them were from Jake.

But there was a teddy bear with an eye patch but without any denotation of the sender.

That counted for something.


End file.
